Dusty's Crash
by BlackNightmareDragon
Summary: Dusty is about to beat Ripslinger in a Wings Around the Globe rally, but it goes horribly wrong. Follow him on the events that unfold. Based on a story by campwbook called "Lightning's crash". I don't own any characters, just this story.
1. The Crash

**Author's note: This is a Planes version of the fanfiction "Lightning's Crash" by** **campwbook. I own this version, but the original idea came from them. Review!**

His heart sank as he watched the event unfold in front of - or rather, above- him. The small orange plane hit the ground hard just feet from the finish line, the rival green racer shooting over him, cutting the winner's tape. Skipper could see his friend's career go down the drain as he watched him tumble from the sky.  
"No, please! Not him! No!" the corsair gasped as Dusty hit the ground at an angle, skidding to a halt by the spectators' stands. A minute ago, he was watching from a platform, eager to see the ex-cropduster win the race. The joy he had felt moments before was gone. Skipper had seen Ripslinger knock Dusty out of the sky in a last-second attempt to win and Dusty hadn't been able to recover in time.  
The navy plane was now struggling to get through the crowd of reporters and medics to get to the racer. "Let me through! Let me through!" he shouted, and the crowd parted - although he wished it didn't. The sight that met him made Skipper feel sick.  
Dusty's prop was badly damaged and one of the blades had snapped off. His wings were twisted and ripped into unnatural positions and his landing gear had snapped off. There was barely a square inch of his fuselage that wasn't dented. His ailerons were folded over and his tail was smashed. Pieces of glass and metal littered the runway of JFK Airport, while hot smoke billowed out of the now unconscious plane's engine. "Kid! Kid! Can you hear me?!" the mentor said frantically, nudging the racer with his nose. "Wake up, please." he whispered quietly, tears pricking his eyes.  
He felt guilty for ever teaching the boy to race in the first place. He felt as though it was his fault Dusty had gotten distracted and crashed over the Pacific. His voice was choking him as he tried to communicate with the racer.  
"Dusty, kid, please be okay," he murmured. He would never forgive himself if the kid didn't pull through.  
"Sk-Skip?"  
The corsair looked up, and he'd never been as relieved as he was at that moment. "Y-yeah I'm right here kiddo" he replied nervously, nudging him again so the racer would acknowledge his presence. "H-how you feelin'?" he asked, although he already knew the answer."Like I just fell from the sky and crashed," Dusty replied.  
Skipper chuckled, "Funny that, eh?" Even after going through what the racer had, Dusty still managed to keep a sense of humour.  
A trailer arrived, and Skipper moved aside to let it get to the plane. "Was it my fault?" Dusty asked weakly, a sharp pain shooting through the course of his injured body. Skipper gritted his teeth in anger as he replied with a sharp "No". He was furious. "It was Ripslinger. he pushed you as you approached the finish line."  
Dusty looked down at the floor, pushing back the black spots that still lingered at the sides of his vision. He couldn't remember anything of the crash, but he could recall something similar happening to another racer in the Piston Cup a while ago. The King had crashed after being shoved off the track by Chick Hicks.  
A few pitties carefully lifted Dusty onto the trailer, and he winced, letting out a sharp gasp of pain. Skipper winced too - it hurt him to see the boy in so much agony. "I'm sorry, Skip," Dusty whispered quietly, before relaxing onto the trailer.  
"Not as sorry as that boy's about to be," the corsair muttered through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna beat the vitaminamulch outta him." Skipper turned to head over to Ripslinger, who was gloating to the press, despite them having seen everything. He had a few choice words for him, but a voice called him back.  
"Mi amigo!"  
The Mexican friend of Dusty, El Chupacabra, gasped as he saw his friend injured on the trailer. El Chu's shock soon turned to anger, and he glared round at Ripslinger.  
"El Chu, no," Dusty said, trying to prevent another racer joining him on the ride to the hospital. The Mexican plane obeyed, and turned back to his friend. "Hey Skip?" Dusty's voice weakly called out.  
"Who won the race? Is it over?"  
Skipper felt a pang of guilt as he muttered an answer, confirming that Ripslinger had won. Dusty's gaze once again fell to the floor, and El Chu gave him a sympathetic look, slipping a wing over Dusty's crumpled form. The orange racer winced, before relaxing. Skipper chewed his bottom lip as a single tear fell from Dusty's windshield, followed by another, then more as Dusty tried to hold back the tears that fell.  
"Awwww look, the wickle baby cwopduster is sad cause meany Rip beat him!" Skipper and El Chu whipped round to glare at the three new arrivals. Ripslinger himself and his two cronies, Ned and Zed, taxied over with sly grins plastered on their faces.  
El Chu went forward, eyes narrowed and prop spinning. "How. Dare. You. HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO SEÑOR DUSTY! So help me I will tear you wing from wing!" He bellowed. Dusty winced - he couldn't shield himself from the noise in his condition.  
Skipper taxied right up to Rip. Being taller, he pushed his fuselage up so he was towering over the racer. "You're gonna wish you'd never been built, kid" he said calmly. Dusty gulped. Whenever Skipper was truly angry, he was completely calm. It was more frightening than when he was furious and shouting. "S-Skip?" he stuttered worriedly. "S-stop," he murmured. Skip backed off and looked at Dusty worriedly. The orange plane could tell from his look that he was itching to let his ancient navy guns loose on the green plane now mocking both of them. Dusty mouthed "no".  
"You'd better listen to the farmboy, Grandpa." Ned spat, Zed laughing like a maniac.  
That was it for El Chu. It was bad enough what those three had done to his compadres during the first Wings Around the Globe rally, but this was way too far. The Mexican racer rammed the side of his body into Ripslinger, causing him to swing back and bash into Zed, loud protests being heard.  
Before El Chu could get into proper wrestler mode, security arrived and held him back, along with Ripslinger and his cronies.  
A truck arrived and hooked up to the trailer Dusty was resting on. The orange plane gave one last look towards his mentor before dark spots clouded his vision again, and unconsciousness consumed him.

**Poor Dusty! Stay tuned for the next chapter. Reviews please me :D**


	2. Hospital

**Woo! Second chapter! I've been writing this on my iPod then uploading it from the computer, so I'll probably write all my stories like that from now on. Two chapters in less than half an hour! Again, I don't own the basic idea of this, that belongs to campwbook for their story "Lightning's crash". Plus, this is going to be extended, so it's more or less my idea. Review!**

Dusty opened his eyes weakly, then shut them immediately. He was met with unnaturally bright light and faint but clear beeping sounds. His head swam and he couldn't think properly. What had happened? He remembered Skipper and El Chu with him, and Ripslinger taunting him as usual, but not much else.  
Wait, there was something else. A - race? Yes, the Wings Around the Globe. And lots of ambulance services around him. His thoughts grew clearer as he began to remember what had happened to him.  
He had been on the ground, then a trailer. And he could remember being in intense pain. His wings had been numb and he couldn't feel his landing gear.  
He opened his eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the light. Now he could hear a voice, calling him. Bringing him out of his dream.  
"S-Sk-Skip?"  
"Y-yeah?" the corsair's voice. Dusty could now make out a dark shape in his far right field of vision. He tried turning to face the shape, but was met with shooting pain through the course of his body.  
"Don't move," Skipper replied.  
Dusty's vision cleared, and he noticed he was in a bright white room, with various coloured wires and cables twisting around the room. The beeping sound was coming from a large monitor hung on the wall next to him, with a green line running across the black screen. His pulse.  
But there was another set of beeps coming from the room. One that didn't match Dusty's pulse.  
"You're in a hospital," Skipper's voice cut through Dusty's thoughts and brought him back to the white room.  
The orange racer could now see his mentor more clearly, and noticed he too was hooked up to a pulse monitor, and he looked rough.  
"Wh-what happened to you?"  
"After you were taken here, El Chupacabra and myself got into a fight against that green racer," Skipper explained. "Your friend fights well, but while Rip was occupied with him, his cronies fought me. It's been a long time since I was in the navy."  
Dusty could now see the corsair had been repaired and had most of his parts replaced. Come to think of it, Dusty felt different too. His wings felt heavier and his joints ached. He managed to catch a glimpse of himself in a reflection off the surface of a cabinet opposite him. His wings were brand new and he had cables looped under them, attached to the ceiling. Wing supports. Since Dusty had just been repaired, his fuselage had to get used to the new wings before he tried flying with them.  
A few dust particles fluttered past the tip of Dusty's nose, and he sneezed. Huh, his engine felt weird too.  
Skipper chuckled beside him. He knew that was how the racer had gotten his name in the first place.  
"You were out for a good few days. That rival of yours hurt you pretty bad," he said.  
Just then, a small female pitty in a white coat with a clipboard entered the room, and came over to Skipper. She looked at his monitor and assessed him.  
"Mr. Riley, you will be able to leave in the morning," she said simply. She then turned to Dusty, and checked his engine, wings, landing gear and propellor. She seemed satisfied, jotting notes down on her clipboard. She moved in front of Dusty, and smiled at him.  
"Mr. Crophopper, you too will be able to go home in the morning. Try not to fly for at least two weeks- your new wings won't take the strain. The same for you, Mr. Riley," she said before leaving.  
"Why did you do it Skip?" Dusty asked, glancing at his mentor.  
Skipper didn't reply immediately - he just sighed.  
"Someone needed to teach that kid a lesson, and his two cronies. Ripslinger was really getting on my nerves. I just-" he cut off there, and growled angrily. "I just wanted him to realise what a jerk he's been to you," he finished.  
Dusty looked at the tray of tools in the corner, then regretted it. On the tray was a white cloth with a tray on top. Lying on the tray were several screwdrivers, a few wrenches and a couple of scalpels. The cloth was marked with thick, dark oil. Dusty shuddered and looked away.  
It was gonna be a long night until they were let out in the morning. And even then he wouldn't be allowed to fly for weeks.

**Stay tuned and review :D**


	3. Chapter 3

A week had passed since Skipper and Dusty had been brought home from the hospital. They had been carried home by two aircraft trailers as they were unable to fly back to Propwash from the hospital.  
The two planes were now currently in a bar in a bigger local town, sharing a drink and a laugh with Chug, Dottie and Sparky.  
"I'll tell you, some of the calls I've had since I left have been ridiculous! Do you remember that old truck that dropped Jerry off that time? Mater? Well, when he'd seen those jets, he must have spotted the sign outside my hangar for those flying lessons. I didn't think he was firing on all cylinders when he came and asked me to teach him how to fly. He was a complete nutter!" Skipper laughed. Sparky and Chug burst into fits of laughter, Dottie rolled her eyes, her mouth curling up. Dusty snickered, and turned to Skip.  
"Seriously? How'd that go?" he asked, genuinely curious as to how an old tow truck could somehow fly.  
"Sparky attached a couple of wings to him with some wires, and, well it just got complicated from there. Somehow he managed to fly backwards, which was impressive,". Skipper said, taking another sip of his drink.  
The conversation turned to races. Chug, Dottie and Dusty got engrossed in an argument about who the best race car was. Dottie argued Francesco Bernoulli and Dusty thought it was Lightning McQueen. Chug tried to argue that both gained an equal score in the World Grand Prix, despite it not actually being a real race.  
Just then, Dusty felt a very unwelcome sensation indeed. He gulped and sped into the bathroom. He emerged ten minutes later, pale and groaning. He'd just been sick, and he felt as though he'd been hit by a 747.  
Dottie came over and placed a lift on his engine, only to pull it back with a yelp.  
"You're engine's boiling, Dusty! Are you sure you're alright?"  
Dusty bit his lip and muttered a quiet "No," in response.  
Skipper put a wing around him and tried to guide him outside, out of the busy bar.  
Dusty groaned again, and gagged a bit. Chug and Sparky exchanged worried glances before paying for the drinks and following the others outside.  
It was raining heavily outside. The exact sort of rain that was over the Pacific Ocean the night Dusty first left the Flysenhower. Skipper still couldn't fly, and there was no way Dusty could either, new wings or not.  
Skipper kept his wing over Dusty for the entirety of the long (it seemed) journey home, keeping pace perfectly and stopping each time Dusty did.  
Dottie guided him to his hangar, while Chug called a doctor. He briefly explained what had happened, and the doctor said he'd be over first thing in the morning.  
Dottie closed the hangar door softly, and said that if anything should happen during the night, Dusty should give her a call and she'd be right over.  
The darkness only seemed to intensify the pain in Dusty's tank. He stared mindlessly into the darkness, waiting for sleep to come. Unfortunately, it never came, and he laid awake in the darkness until morning came.

**Aww, Dusty's not well :(**

**Stay tuned! Review :P?**


	4. The serum

**A/N sorry I took so long to update this, I know you've been waiting ages, but here is the new chapter. The QX59 serum mentioned is made up, it does not exist (to my knowledge). Thanks to everyone reading this, and here we go!**

* * *

Dusty stared around his hangar, looking at all the various pieces of racing merchandise he had purchased over the years. Sitting proud in the centre of the top shelf was a small Ripslinger model. Next to it, his friend Chug had put a model of him, one left over from the items the truck was selling during Dusty's first race.

The doctor had been the previous day, and the situation wasn't particularly one Dusty had hoped for. The illness had been caused by someone tampering with Dusty's drink at the bar. Someone had managed to slip in a rare type of oil, QX59, one that was illegal in most countries and certainly in the United States. But just how the serum had made it into Dusty's drink still remained a mystery.

* * *

The night Dusty and his friends were at the bar, no-one had noticed another racing plane sitting in a corner, hidden by the shadows. He was in fact the reason Dusty had left so soon. One of his minions had, while none of the gang from Propwash were looking, slipped some of the QX59 oil into the drink. Not enough to kill, but enough to make the rival of the racer suffer in intense pain for a considerable amount of time.

The racer had chuckled darkly to himself, his two twin-like minions laughing with him.

"Have a good night, farmboy,"

* * *

Dottie placed the pot of warm water in front of her friend, smiling at him.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, angling the straw in the water to Dusty as he took a sip and swallowed.

"A b-bit better, but still sick," he replied, giving her the most reassuring smile he could muster. She smiled back, rubbing the side of his nose gently.

"It'll all be okay, Dusty, don't you worry," she said, and slipped out the hangar, pulling the doors not quite closed to allow a little fresh air to come in.

Dusty sighed, groaning a little as his tank ached. Who could have done this to him? Well, Dusty did suspect one certain plane.

A rumble of tires over the ground signalled the arrival of someone else. Skipper poked his nose through the hangar doors, pushing them open.

"How you feeling kid?" He asked. He taxied over to his friend.

"A little better than yesterday." Dusty replied.

"Hey Skip?"

"Yeah?"

"How long was I unconscious in the hospital?"

"Three days," his mentor said.

THREE DAYS? It felt like a few hours, Dusty thought. He must have hit the ground pretty hard to keep him out for that long. His eyes shifted to the shelf again, and he frowned.

"Hey Skipper, would you mind removing that Rip model from my shelf? I don't know why I even kept it, I guess you were training me so often after the first race, and I visited the crew on the Flysenhower so much that I forgot it was even there."

The corsair wheeled over to the shelf and slipped the model onto his wing. He then tipped it into the bin with a satisfied smile.

"He's right where he belongs," Skipper chuckled


	5. Chapter 5

**Yay! New chapter! I'm glad I can write these things faster, a way, enjoy.**

"Good job earlier, boss!" Zed complimented.

"I did what had to be done," Ripslinger replied. "The stupid farmboy should never have been a racer. I was putting him in his place,"

Ned remembered the look on Dusty's face after he had been sick. He laughed.

"How do you reckon the moron's holding up?" He asked.

"Don't know, don't care," Rip spat.

* * *

~Dusty's POV ~

Skip, Chug and I sat outside, watching the stars. Dottie had decided that a little fresh air would make me feel much better, and, to be honest, she was right - as usual. I don't know who put that stuff in my drink, but thankfully it wasn't enough to kill me. Whoever did it sure hates me, and I think I know who.

"See that star there?" Skipper gestured to a bright star slightly to the left of a constellation. "I used to be able to see that from the Flysenhower,"

Chug looked up in awe at the stars. My hangar was one of only two that got a good view of the stars - the other being Skipper's.

I felt a sharp lurch in my tank, and shot back inside. This sickness was horrid. I was retching and being sick every hour. The special oil Chug and Dottie gave me wasn't staying down for long enough, and I kept finding myself dizzy from low energy levels. Everyone has said that the best thing is to wait for me to get better.

I kinda liked just sitting out here with Skip and Chug. Two years ago, if someone had asked me what I thought of Skipper, I would have said a grouchy old corsair who hated socializing. Now, I know he cares about everyone in Propwash, not just me. But, from what he did at the last race after I crashed, he really cares about me.

Chug is like an older brother to me. I've known him for as long as I can remember. He's a great laugh, and sometimes a little reckless. I remembered what his callsign was before I started racing, and snickered.

Skipper gave me a quizzical look, and I smiled.

"I just remembered what Chug's callsign was before I entered the first race. He called himself 'Turbo Coach Truckzilla',"

Skipper burst out laughing, and Chug smiled sheepishly.

Suddenly, an unbelievably sharp pain shot through my engine, and I let out a sharp gasp of pain.

~Skipper's POV~

I winced. The poor kid was suffering so much, all because of the idiot who put that oil in his drink. Something was different though. Usually he'd groan and shoot off to the bathroom. I think it was more of an ache when he was sick. But this time, he looked as though he felt like he'd been shot. I instinctively put my wing over him for support.

"Get Dottie," I said, and Chug raced off. Dusty gasped and winced again, shifting back slightly. I felt really bad for him. Who wouldn't? He moaned quietly, and I frowned.

It seemed like an eternity before Chug returned with Dottie carrying a medical kit. She took out a screwdriver and opened the cover of his engine. She checked the readings from his engine, and frowned.

"What's wrong?" I asked, worried.

"His readings show a sharp increase in temperature. The temperature then decreased to below normal, before it returned to what it should be. The QX59 serum is doing far worse things than what we originally thought it could do."

Upon hearing this, I distinctly heard Dusty gulp.

"Let's get you back inside," I said, and helped him back into his hangar. I made sure he had fresh, cold water for the night (we had all decided water was better than actual oil) and turned to leave.

"Sk-Skip?"

I turned round and looked at Dusty. "Yeah?"

"C-could you stay here?" He asked. He seemed a little embarrassed.

"Sure," I replied, and raised over I was next to him. I made sure to give him some space. His hangar wasn't nearly as big as mine, but I managed. I slipped the tip of my wing over his, and I'm certain I saw him smile.

He was asleep within minutes, and soon, so was I.


	6. Chapter 6

~Ripslinger's POV~

I don't know what he was expecting, the worthless little piece of scrapmetal. What did he really think was gonna happen after he beat me in the first race?! That I'd just pull back and let him do it again?! Fat chance, farmboy. And those two planes who follow me around actually proved themselves useful, for once. Zed came up and told me about the serum and Ned tipped some into Cropflopper's glass when none of them were looking. Stupid moron, he's a tractor with wings, that's what he is. He should never have left that pathetic excuse for a town. No-one beats the Green Tornado and gets away with it.

* * *

~Dusty's POV~

I woke up to a dizzy sensation and low, rough snoring coming from next to me. I moved slightly and saw Skipper fast asleep next to me. Oh yeah, that's right. He spent the night in my hangar, making sure I was okay. I'll be honest, I didn't expect he would actually stay. I was kinda embarrassed asking him, but he didn't mind. Just proves my point even more that he does actually care about my wellbeing, rather than thinking I was some kid mucking around and being irritating like the first time I met him.

"Oh, h-*yawn* hey Dusty, how you feeling this morning?"

Skipper had woken up.

"I'm alright, my tank still feels like there's a dogfight going on in there, and I feel kinda nauseous still," I said, as another wave hit me. It didn't feel as bad as the first night, which I guessed was a good thing.

Skipper pressed the button to open the hangar doors and I blinked slightly at the bright sunlight beaming in.

"I'm gonna grab a pot of oil, alright?" He said, and exited.

~Skipper's POV~

I hate seeing him like that. Usually Dusty's energetic and always up for a quick fly around. He's so helpful and always willing to help others. But now, he never comes out his hangar and he seems so miserable all the time. I don't blame him, being ill like that.

I taxied over to the station and bought a container of oil. Dottie handed me a pot of cold water for Dusty.

"Take Dusty this. How's he feeling this morning?" She asked, and I could tell she was concerned for her friend.

"He said he still feels nauseous and dizzy, but a bit better. Poor kid. I swear, whenever I find out who put that oil in his drink, they're gonna wish they'd never been built,"

I quickly swallowed the oil and took the water back to Dusty's hangar. He looked at me as I returned, and it made me feel really bad. His usually bright eyes were pale and watery, and you could clearly see he had given up.

"Dottie asked me to give you this," I said, and put the drink down in front of him.

He murmured a quick thanks and took a sip. He shifted his gaze to the floor, avoiding looking at me.

~Dusty's POV~

I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I felt like death. He'd already seen enough of what that serum was doing to me, I didn't want to worry him any more.

I took a deep breath.

"Skip, I-" I had to cut off there, because I started violently coughing. It hurt, like someone had put boiling, molten metal down my throat. I managed to stop coughing long enough to speak. "I think I know who put that stuff in my drink," I said quietly.

God, I felt tired. I just had no energy whatsoever.

"Ripslinger,"

I looked up at the corsair. He must have figured out that the plane who had wanted me dead since last year was also the one who had put the serum in my drink. I guess it didn't take a genius to work it out.

His face went dark, and he growled- yeah, I mean growled,- something about beating the Vitaminamulch out of him. He turned quickly and left. I gingerly followed him.

Technically, as it had been about two weeks since we were both let out of the hospital, we could fly. But, being in the condition I was in, that wasn't happening for me.

I heard an engine roar as I followed Skipper, and looked up.

"Oh no," I whispered.

Just coming into land on the runway was, yep, Ripslinger. How on EARTH did he figure out where Propwash was? Mind you, since the paparazzi had swarmed me after I won the first race, the town was getting lots more visitors. We even got put on the map!

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A sickeningly familiar voice called. I turned to see the racer (along with his two cronies - they're practically joined at the wing) taxi over smiling slyly. "It's the wickle baby farmboy. You got the sniffles, Cropflopper?"

"Go away, Rip," I said simply.

~Skipper's POV~

My oil boiled. I rushed over and put myself next to Dusty. No way was I gonna sit there and watch him get tormented.

"Bugger off, Ripstinker," I spat. I heard Dusty gasp quietly. I guess it's 'cause he's never heard me speak like that before.

"Language, Gramps," one of his cronies smirked.

"You get your sorry tails outta this place before I make you," I said darkly.

~Dusty's POV~

I smirked, now was my chance.

"Honestly, Rip? Employing two losers like them to stalk you while you take on one cropduster? What are you, a baby?"

Uh oh, that did it. Rip glared at me while Ned and Zed shot forward, knocking me sideways. Rip then rammed his propeller into my side, and I yelped. He moved back, and rammed into me again. Ooh, I knew that had left a nasty dent.

He pulled back and I heard something wet hit the ground. I looked down nervously, and nearly fainted.

My side had a huge dent, pushed so far that my fuselage had actually snapped. I was bleeding quite badly. Great, I just recovered from the injuries caused by the crash. It felt like the entire right side of my body was on fire, and I yelped again as he prepared for another attack.

He got knocked aside by Skipper. The corsair kept shoving him away from me. Rip pulled away and I noticed something small and black attached to his wing.

A GUN?! How on earth did he get a gun?

He smirked and aimed it at Skipper's windshield.

"Lights out!"

"NO!" I screamed, and moved in front of Skipper. I heard a gunshot, then everything went black.

**Sorry for the cliffhanger guys! I will update this, and Dusty's not dead, so don't worry!**


	7. I told you he wasn't dead

~Skipper's POV~

No! No no no no no! This couldn't be happening. My voice had lodged in my throat as Ripslinger pointed the gun at me. I never expected Dusty to jump in front of me like that. I didn't pay a damn bit of attention as the three flew off in a hurry. I was too worried about Dusty. I moved round him and the sight killed me inside.

A small hole was in the side of his engine, right in the middle. I couldn't leave him, so I bellowed into my radio, calling for help. Chug answered, and gasped as I told him Dusty had been shot. He cut off.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at the unconscious kid. He saved my life. All that was going through my head was Dusty's dead. Dusty's dead. I shook myself to clear the horrid thoughts.

Someone must have called an ambulance, as several medic services came driving down the runway towards us. I barely acknowledged that. I stared blankly at the ground, not moving. Even when they took Dusty to the emergency ward in the hospital.

Sparky tried placing a lift on my wing, but I pulled away. I went behind my hangar and just stared at the fields.

I was there for goodness knows how long. Days, probably. It started to rain heavily, but I still didn't go inside. I just sat and stared at the fields.

After that, I guess I became distant again from everyone. Sparky had tried taking me inside, but I ignored him.

Eventually, I decided to visit Dusty in hospital. I went up to the front desk and asked to see him. The receptionist told me where he was, and I made my way there as quickly as possible.

I entered the ward and gasped. Dusty was hooked up to so many different wires and machines. Someone had managed to get an oxygen mask on the poor kid. His wings had dents and scratches over them. The new wings he hadn't even flown with yet. His eyes were shut; he looked like he was in a coma.

I felt sick. This was all my fault. If I had just calmly told him to ignore Ripslinger, none of this would ever have happened. I just wished that it was me, lying there. Seeing him there was really the only time I had let tears slip out my windshield.

I heard a small noise, and Dusty shifted. I looked anxiously at him. His eyes opened slowly, and he must have seen me.

"S-Sk-Skip?" He stuttered weakly.

"Y-yeah, Duster, I'm right here,"

~Dusty's POV~

My vision was albeit blurry, but I could make out a distinct dark shape. Skipper. He must have come to visit me in hospital. He looked pretty tired. And worried.

I'll be honest. When the gun fired, I thought I was dead. I was almost 100% sure Ripslinger had killed me. Which is what he had wanted since the moment he met me. I looked up at my mentor, and smiled weakly.

"Are y-you alright, S-Skip?"

"Wouldn't know, I'm more concerned about you,"

He smiled at me.

I think, In the past two weeks, I've spent more time in hospital than in my own hangar.

I could faintly hear someone talking. I tried shifting to get a better look, but I was still hurt. Skipper shifted to the side, and we both turned to look at a television mounted on the wall. It was a news programme. On the right of the anchor on screen was a picture of Ripslinger.

"Our top story tonight. The famous racer Ripslinger has been jailed for an attack on the racer Dusty Crophopper. Ripslinger reportedly attacked his rival at his home in Propwash Junction yesterday. He also attacked Crophopper's mentor, Skipper Riley. Ripslinger attempted to kill the mentor using a gun, but Crophopper blocked his path, therefore getting wounded. Ripslinger has also been confirmed of pushing the racer out of the sky at the recent Wings Around the Globe Rally, and poisoning Mr Crophopper with an illegal and highly dangerous type of oil."

I couldn't believe it! The TV then cut to a clip showing Rip shoving me out of the sky, and another showing him getting hauled away on a police trailer.

"Ripslinger will not be allowed to compete again in another Wings Around the Globe Rally, and his accomplices have since been arrested." The reporter finished.

~Skipper's POV~

I couldn't believe it! That moron had finally gotten what he deserved! About time too!

"Serves him right," I said, and Dusty chuckled.


	8. Home from hospital (again)

**Hey Viewers of the Cars fanfiction archive! Chapter 8 has arrived. **

**Disclaimer. I'm sure you all know by now that I don't own any characters from Planes. So you know, all rights belong to Disney, yada yada yada.**

**Onwards,to the story! -**

~Dusty's POV~

I'll tell you this. Being in hospital is the most uncomfortable thing anyone could do. It's noisy and the place is always full of people crying. I'm not against people crying, it's pretty sad really. The only people who've visited me are Skipper and Dottie. Each time Dottie's visited, Chug has had to keep an eye on the "Fill 'N' Fly".

Hospitals on TV shows are always shown as clean, peaceful, nice places to be. I keep getting doctors poking at my engine every hour. And then there's the reporters. They come in with their cameras and microphones, trying to get an interview or pictures of me. If they come when Skipper's visiting, they bombard him with questions too. He always manages to stop them. I don't think they get that I'm in hospital for a reason, not just there to look nice, or on vacation.

When the people at the hospital eventually told me I could go home, after a hundred final checks, Skipper came and picked me up. The doctors said I would be able to fly home. Thank goodness! I hadn't flown in weeks, and I was really itching to get up there.

As Skipper and I taxied out the hospital, reporters and paparazzi swarmed us. They were practically shoving the microphones up my exhausts. They bombarded us with all sorts of questions.

"Skipper! How do you feel about Dusty saving your life?"

"Dusty, are you still dating Ishani?"

(Well, I never was in the first place,)

"Skipper, are you Dusty's father?"

"Wait, WHAT?!" Skipper shouted. "Are you really that stupid?"

He shoved through the reporters, ignoring the flashing cameras going off in his face. He managed to clear a space for me to follow him.

We taxied out onto the hospital runway and took off. I really missed the wind rushing past me. Flying low over long grass is one of the best feelings in the world. Skipper kept close to me, making sure I wasn't going to fall from the sky.

As soon as we landed in Propwash, Chug rushed up to me with a worried expression.

"Dusty! Buddy, are you alright?"

Relax, Chug, I'm fine," I said. Soon quite a few people were making sure I was okay. They seemed really concerned and worried about what had happened to me.

"Guys, give the kid some space," Skipper chuckled.

It was nice knowing that they cared about me, but they were being a bit pushy. Even Leadbottom wanted to make sure I was alright. Dottie and Chug managed to calm them down, and they left. What I would do without those guys, I don't know. They're like family to me. Dottie's like my protective older sister, and Chug's kinda the reckless younger brother. He can be a bit mad sometimes, but it all works out alright in the end.

Sometimes, though, things aren't so great. Once he accidentally gave me jet fuel instead of my regular fuel, and I nearly shot off the end of the runway into some sharp rocks. He apologized over and over, even though I kept trying to persuade him it was an accident, and that I was fine.

Dottie, although sometimes she can be a little harsh, has saved me on numerous occasions. She fixed me up after the crash in the Pacific, and countless other times before that. But she's also supportive and caring. I guess she tried to stop me from racing because she was frightened I would get hurt. She always thinks things through, and rarely acts on impulse. She's one of the greatest friends a small-town cropduster could have.


	9. Dusty's Family

**A/N: Hey guys. The reason I haven't updated this in a while is 'cause I've had exams, and revision and all that boring stuff to do. There's another couple of chapters coming, I'd hate to see this thing come to a close, but all good things must come to an end, I guess. Thanks to RushandStreak for following, and all you others who're following this and I'm too stupid to remember the names of. :P**

A week later, most people in Propwash had forgotten about the whole Ripslinger incident. Dusty, Chug, Dottie and Skip, however, had the incident clear in their minds.

It took them a while, but they managed to convince themselves that it wasn't gonna happen again. Dusty had managed to recover well, much better than what people were expecting. Even Dusty's friends in Radiator Springs had got in contact to make sure he was okay. They had agreed to visit him, despite the long journey.

It was Tuesday, the day Lightning, Mater, Sally, Finn and Holley were coming to visit. After a long drive, from Arizona to Minnesota, the five eventually arrived. Skipper and Dusty were there to greet them.

Lightning McQueen had once lived in Propwash Junction, before he had moved away to chase his dream of racing. Dusty had known Lightning for a while, and when the race car moved to Radiator Springs, Dusty had visited often, eventually getting to know the group there, and after the whole "Allinol" event, Holley and Finn too.

Now, Lightning and the others were driving up the runway in Propwash towards the two planes. Lightning was the first to greet Dusty.

"Hey Duster! Long time, no see. How are you doing?"

"Not too bad, Lightning, I'm sorry to hear about Doc. He really was a great mentor and racer," the orange plane replied.

Lightning smiled. "Thanks,"

"So, kid, how's the racing going?" Skipper asked.

"Sure is great der Mr Skipper. He's done won three of dem Piston Cups," Mater said.

"Ah, Mater. Good to see you again," Skipper said, remembering those flying lessons he had given the old tow truck.

"Hello Dusty," Finn greeted. "I must say, what Ripslinger did was downright outrageous."

"Yeah, it sure was," Skipper agreed.

"How are you doing?" the Aston Martin asked Dusty.

"Okay, still feel a little sick after that oil. I still can't believe they managed to slip it in without any of us, or anyone else in the bar, noticing."

"Well, you're pretty lucky!" Holley exclaimed.

Dusty pulled a face, and if he could have, he would have shrugged. Loads of people had told him he was a hero, and he's lucky to be alive, making him out to be something great. But the truth was – he didn't feel any different. He'd just stopped someone being killed. He didn't feel heroic, or lucky, or even brave. He had simply just done what anyone else would have done had they been in his position.

Once the RS gang had eventually gone, Dusty just bid everyone else goodnight and went back to his hangar. He didn't even attempt to sleep, however. He just stared up at the ceiling, and at the various racing banners and posters around the walls.

"Kid?"

Dusty turned round to see Skipper looking at him with a concerned expression.

"What's up?"

The orange plane sighed. "Everyone keeps telling me how brave and heroic I was for moving in front of you, but I don't feel any different. I just feel like the same old cropduster I was three years ago. Mucking around with Chug, dusting crops and, well, just generally being me. All this racing, and reporters taking pictures of me any time I go anywhere, it- it just doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like, well, me."

Skipper thought for a moment at what his friend had just said. He always thought the kid loved racing, and actually having people know him, rather than just seeing him as nothing. He took a deep breath,

"Dusty, I ... I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"It's about your parents."

Dusty looked up at his mentor in both shock, and worry. Skipper took another deep breath.

"You weren't adopted by us here like we told you. You never asked, and well, I guess I've been putting off the truth for too long." Seeing Dusty's curious expression, he took another deep breath, and spoke again.

"Your father was a fighter plane, similar to me, and your mother was a cropduster. Your father was lost at sea, and your mother couldn't cope. You were only a tiny little thing, smaller than a forklift, and she felt she wouldn't be able to look after you properly after your father went. She asked me to look after you, but I couldn't. I was quite close to your mother, she was like a sister to me, and I saw her in you. After she went off the deep end, I never saw her again. The last I heard of her is she had pitched herself into the sea, chasing her husband. After that, I couldn't bring myself to look after you, so I left you to Dottie and Chug. That's why I very rarely came out my hangar, because I knew if I saw you, I would break down. I'm sorry,"

Dusty stared at the floor, taking it all in. He looked back up at his mentor, angry

"You lied. You told me my parents didn't want me, and I was adopted from somewhere else. You LIED!"

"Dusty I-I'm sorry...I-"

"Get out,"

Skipper opened his mouth to reply, but closed it, and left the hangar, leaving a confused, angry, hurt Dusty behind the now closed hangar doors.

**Well? I can just mentally see a certain reader of this screaming at this fanfic saying "No! Skipper's Dusty's dad!" Well, there you go, a little of Dusty's past.**


	10. Epilogue

**A/N: Sorry I probably haven't updated in a while, I have had exams and stuff going on, plus writer's block, which always sucks. Again, I own no characters. They belong to Disney.**

* * *

~Dusty's POV~

How could he lie? I trusted him. It's Volo Pro Veritas all over again. 'I fly for truth' my tail. I always thought my parents had hated me, so had therefore ditched me. I had been told that they didn't care, that they didn't want someone like me. He lied. I felt sick. I knew it. Who could ever like someone like me?

"Ripslinger was right, I'm just a stupid worthless farmboy,"

"No you're not," a soft voice said from behind me. I turned to see Dottie in the doorway, the same expression on her face as the one in Mexico last year. Worried and sad.

"Did you know too? About my parents?" She didn't answer, and I knew I had hit the nail right on the head.

"What about the others?"

"We all knew, Dusty."

"So that's it. You've all been lying to me my entire life, and I was stupid enough to believe it. I thought I could trust you, I guess I was wrong!"

With that, I shot past her, smashing her out the way and not even bothering to apologise. I taxied onto the runway and immediately fired up my engine. I flew off, ignoring the shouts I heard from behind me. I knew Dottie would try to call me back. I turned off my radio so they wouldn't be able to call me.

I don't know how long I was flying for. But I knew where I was going. I headed west, towards the Pacific. The Flysenhower hopefully will be out there, and so then will be the only two planes I trust now.

* * *

~Dottie's POV~

I felt horrid. I knew about what had happened to Dusty's parents, we all did. I just hoped he wouldn't get some stupid idea. I hate lying to anyone. I've known Dusty most of his life. When Skipper came and told me what had happened to his parents, I felt like locking myself away and never coming out. But that would have done no good. So I kept my word, and looked after Dusty as he grew up, keeping his secret safe. Looking back on it now, all those times he said he trusts me with his life, makes me feel even worse.

"Hey Dottie, what's up? Where's the Dustmeister?"

Chug's voice snapped me back to reality, and I turned to face him. "Skipper told him about his parents, he got angry that we didn't tell him, and he flew off." When I saw the expression on his face, I gave him a look of sympathy and moved over to him.

"It's okay, we should have told him a while ago,"

"Yeah, we should, it's all my fault," Skipper said, taxiing over.

"Don't talk like that, you did what any of us would have done," I said. He shifted slightly, and frowned.

"But it wasn't right, keeping the truth from him like that. He called me a liar. He shouted at me. I've never seen him like that, ever."

I sighed. "Let things simmer down for a while. He'll understand."

* * *

~Dusty's POV~

Eventually, the familiar large aircraft carrier came into my view. Good, I was getting low on fuel. I switched my radio on, to have a familiar voice call.

"Unknown aircraft. Identify yourself,"

"Crophopper 7." I replied

"Roger that, Crophopper 7 you are cleared for landing."

I circled the ship until I got into a good position, then throttled back and landed.

"Neat landing, kid,"

Two familiar fighter jets were coming over, and I smiled. "Hey guys, long time no see. How have things here been?"

"Good, thanks, how's life in Propwash?" Echo asked.

I sighed. "C'mon, let me explain," We went onto the lower deck, and found a place that no-one was using. I explained about what Skipper had told me, and how everyone had been keeping it from me for years, while Bravo and Echo refuelled me. They exchanged glances, and looked at me sympathetically.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Bravo said.

"Skipper used to rant on about 'volo pro veritas', yet he lied. Makes you think who you can really trust,"

I smiled. "Well, I know I trust you guys."

"Thanks," they said in unison, and I laughed.

* * *

~Skipper's POV~

I knew where he had gone. He'd gone to see his mates on the Flysenhower. He's too predictable. I eventually found it and landed, just as Dusty, Bravo and Echo were coming up on the platform from the lower deck.

"Dusty!" I called, moving over to them. A couple of planes saluted me as I went past, but I ignored them.

Dusty glared at me. "What do you want, Skipper? Why did you lie to me? After all that 'I fly for truth' stuff you kept telling me."

I took a deep breath. "Look, I was just trying to do what was best for you. I'm sorry. If you had known, who knows what might have happened?"

Dusty just taxied away from me, onto the short runway. "I might have been able to actually trust you," he said. He fired up his engine, and took off. I quickly followed.

"Dusty! Stop and listen to me! Please, I'm sorry,"

Suddenly, a loud rumble echoed above me, and I looked up to see huge storm clouds gathering. Rain started to pelt down. Even though he still had horrid memories of the crash, Dusty kept flying, and I followed. Lightning flashed around us, as Dusty continued to head for home. A bolt of lightning struck me, and my engine died. We were several nautical miles from the ship at this point, and there was no way I'd be able to glide back.

"Dusty!" I shouted, as my nose began to tip downwards, and I headed for the sea.

~Dusty's POV~

I heard a yell, and I banked to the side, just to see Skipper falling to the water. I radioed the ship as quick as I could, and headed after him.

Skipper hit the water, and I winced. It had hurt when I had crashed, so I knew exactly what it felt like. I ignored the screaming wind and cut my own engine, falling in with him.

I was submerged for a short while, and I eventually resurfaced. I managed to move my ailerons and rudder in such a way that it kept me up, for a little time though. I could see Skipper coughing and spluttering, as waves smashed both of us.

"Skipper!" I shouted. "Move your rudder!"

He coughed up water, and looked in horror at me. "What are you doing?!"

"Move your rudder!" I repeated, and he complied. He managed to at least keep his face out the water for a few seconds at a time. I heard a foghorn and bright light flooded over us. The Flysenhower pulled alongside us and a harness came down and grabbed Skipper. It hoisted him up onto the deck, and lifted me up too. I could see my propeller, and it was completely destroyed. Skipper's wings were bent and his propeller was cracked and broken, like mine.

When we were in the repair bay, Skipper looked at me, and I saw concern, yet gratitude in his eyes.

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

I sighed. " 'Cause I care about you, and it's my fault you're out here. It's my fault you had to come after me. I shouldn't have flown off,"

"No, it's my fault. I should have told you earlier, you know, about your parents. I'm sorry Dusty,"

The pitties fixed us up and we were heading back home soon enough. When we landed, Dottie rushed over and started bombarding me with apologies, and asking if we were alright.

"Relax, Dottie, we're fine, and it's okay. I shouldn't have flown off like that. I guess I was having a bit of a tantrum."

Dottie smirked. "Alright, but don't do that again. You had me worried sick. Thank goodness Skipper knew where you had gone. Do you forgive us for not telling you?"

I smiled at her, then at Skipper, then at Chug who had just pulled up. "Yeah, you're my family, and nothing will ever come between that," I said.

~~~THE END~~~

* * *

**Well, there we go! The final chapter. I was thinking about continuing this for longer, but I was running out of ideas. Not every story can have a million chapters, and I guess I got lazy halfway through these chapters. A nice longer one to finish!**

**All reviews have been read and all are appreciated! Thanks to everyone, including regularshow565, RushandStreak, MovieGirl44, ChocolateIceWinter and Sarah mcqueen. Thanks so much guys! Plus thanks to all the random guests who reviewed!**


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